


It’s you

by Freckledblake



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, I’ll add more tags as I go, Jealous Bellamy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 22:38:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12617116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Freckledblake/pseuds/Freckledblake
Summary: A collection of one-shots/drabbles I write of Bellamy and Clarke when I can’t sleep aha.





	It’s you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy, Clarke and Miller go undercover to question a suspect. Jealousy ensues and things go south rather quickly.

  
Bellamy rattled the ice in his glass before taking another swig of the disturbingly potent liquid. Quickly realizing that his glass was now drained of moonshine, he signaled the bartender for another round.

Miller sighed as he took Bellamy’s drink out of his tensed grasp. “You do know we’re not allowed to drink whilst we’re on the job.”

Bellamy replied with a grunt; too fixated on listening in on the suspect’s flirtatious remarks towards the blonde and watching him snake a hand up his partner’s black mini dress. Miller’s gaze follows his aggravated one, and is able to put two and two together. Before Miller has the chance to elaborate on his theory on why his friend is suddenly so intense, a bunch of jumbled words have already tumbled out from Bellamy’s lips.

“This is...pointless.” His face was red from suppressed rage.

“Why does Clarke have to be the one that questions him?”

“Bell-“

“This fuckface is literally groping her ass.”

“Can’t we just kill the guy already?”

Miller kicked Bellamy under the table to grab his attention; it had worked. Bellamy retaliated with a kick to Miller’s shin and a deathly scowl.

”Clarke can take care of herself.” 

He’s never seen Bellamy this agitated before. He _usually_ is extremely professional. But it’s Bellamy Blake so like... _usually_.

“Dude, look.” Miller forcefully whispered whilst pointing to Clarke.

The blonde is squirming slightly under the man’s touch as he runs his hands through her curls. He honestly wants to punch Miller for making him watch the evil smirk that appears on the suspects face as he twirls the ends of her hair between his fingertips. But his thoughts immediately falter when he realizes why she’s squirming and trying her best to not let his hands hover over her right ear.

 _He’s going to find her earpiece_.

Miller gulps as he reaches for the gun tucked into his belt and Bellamy does the same.

And when the inevitable happens and the man finds the buzzing earpiece, it’s safe to say everyone loses their shit. After the man yanks at it and slams it in front of Clarke, she nervously laughs and gives him a sheepish grin.

“How’d did that get there?.” Clarke states mockingly.

The man blantly answers by grabbing a steak knife and pressing it against Clarke’s throat.

“Who are you working for?”  
She’s still smiling like an idiot, but like an _adorably cute idiot_ , Bellamy mentally notes.

“The government.” She squeals in an excited yet sarcastic tone. “You’re fucked.”

Bellamy stifles a laugh. Miller and him have both have their guns trained onto the man and his own undercover friends .

Clearly the man underestimates Clarke., and soon enough, he’s already laying face first on the floor, hands twisted behind his back, Clarke’s foot in between his shoulder blades and the knife discarded and kicked across the polished, wooden floor.

Bellamy and Miller have already disarmed and knocked the suspect’s mutuals out with the back of their guns.

When Bellamy looks back up at Clarke, he’s already lost a couple brain cells. There she is, blowing small blonde curls away from her eyes and pouting like a 4 year old does when it doesn’t get what it wants. Bellamy approaches her with a smug grin.

“What’s the matter, princess?”

“I didn’t get to kiss him.”

Bellamy’s brows furrow in confusion. She looks down at the man whose still currently pinned to the floor by Clarke’s black stiletto. 

“He’s so hot. Why are all the bad boys so fucking hot?”

“So good guys like me can’t be hot.” It was more a statement rather than a question. 

“Well, you see Blake, you’re the exception.”

Bellamy’s pretty sure he’s never smiled this hard before, like, _ever_. He’s blushing too, which scares the shit out of him.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m sorry this is so sucky, I wrote and edited this at like 2am so some of it might not make sense


End file.
